Schneewittchen
by gordafarid
Summary: An AU that takes place twenty-one years in the future; Sharon Rainsworth leads an army with the heir of the Barma house to the break of civil war. Before the final crack she is given a peace offering but to hold her end of the bargain she must give over her ally. A tragedy in three acts. Sequel to "Rosenrot". Warning for character death. *Spoilers to retrace 79*
1. Sie wird heut nicht untergehen

_She did not go down tonight._

* * *

Rarely did Sharon go outside the advice of her tutor, but for years she had known he was "Mr. One-Man-Show" and thus not given to group activities.

Unfortunately warfare is never the affair of one solitary soldier, or even him and his companions alone.

This war was far more than simply two armies laying waste to each other in some blood soaked field. It was fought not just in cities, roads, meadows, woods, or hamlets. It was fought in homes, words, families, and above all else, politics. It was a strategic gambit played in tea rooms and balls. The soldiers who stained the land with their blood were nothing more than pawns fallen from the hands of the game masters hidden behind closed doors.

Sharon Rainsworth was aware her position as guerilla put her at an immediate disadvantage. All she had was silent brute force, and no mouthpiece to speak from. The language of the body was always that of the truth however; no one could doubt her intentions as she marched the army of Rainsworth and Barma to lay siege to Sablier itself. It was a victory won on the back of hundreds of slain men and the killed dreams of dozens of families. It was the silent battle hymn that called the disenfranchised to arms.

_I will strangle you who has a voice until you give me my own._

Through the machinations of fate, the younger Lady Rainsworth had found herself as the figurehead for the displaced nobility, those who had lost their titles and lands to the Baskerville loyalists. Sharing the same blood as the king the Rainsworth household had first been urged to petition the monarch to not allow the Baskerville leviathan to seize all power in the country. At first the nobles had been appeased with their own assembly, until its seats had been filled with loyalists and those who opposed tyranny had been forced out into the countryside.

And the king sat on his throne with puppet strings, as he always had.

The granddaughter of the Rainsworth Duchess was now a traitor, with a price on her head, like all of her companions. Stripped of her title, fortune, and position, for the last ten years she had been nothing but a renegade. Yet she was still a Contractor, still a Rainsworth, and above all else, still a lady. For unlike the others who had fallen to vandalism in raiding the innocent peasant farms and terrorizing unimportant country counts, Sharon Rainsworth walked as if she didn't touch the ground, not even the vermillion earth after battle.

And perhaps that was why she had been chosen for an audience out of all the traitors hounding the heels of the Baskerville Empire.

Marquess Vessalius was as much a figurehead of the king, the charming young nobleman whom all must see to have the ear of Duke Baskerville. He was the bastard of Vincent Nightray and Sharon was sure that like his father he had all the great manners of a slimy eel. Ada Vessalius had perhaps fallen as far as her to whore her son out to the regime. That boy had also somehow been blinded, robbed of his red eyes. Like in great eastern empires when a sultan does not wish for his son to compete for his throne the marquess' eyes had been put out.

Sharon had turned the invitation over and over again in her hands the night the clandestine messenger had appeared in the doorway of her tent. The lithe man may have even been a Baskerville for how he had bypassed the guards. He stood in a great dark cloak however as the Lady mused over the impasse that had cleaved open at her feet.

Was she meant for the same treatment as the marquess? To be crippled so she could never be a threat ever again? Or was this sabotage? An invitation to betrayal by someone who had been so severely injured by the Baskervilles? Or was she only to be assassinated- quietly killed and quickly forgotten?

"My lady, let me go instead." Break smiled as he stirred his tea, nothing but weeds in water. "To talk to that young upstart. If he's anything like his father all he needs is a good ear-boxing."

"He certainly has better handwriting and a much more polite tone than his father ever did," Sharon waved the invitation to tea between her fingertips. Perhaps the lad was actually much more like his very proper but very odd mother.

"I think I may like to see for myself what sort of entertainment he gives a lady. He's a Vessalius and a Nightray, neither one could give a decent party to save their lives. If he's going to survive court he surely needs some _instruction_."

"La, la, my lady is so kind. I see she still has her _affection_ for young boys." Break hummed as he stoked the fire in the center of the tent. Sharon stiffened and reddened, even if the only one watching was a mere messenger, to have her personal tastes so openly spoken about!

"Or is eighteen too old for my young lady?" The former steward asked the former heiress. Sharon grinned at the bemused messenger who was shivering in the night air but then turned away from the spectator. She resolutely showed Break the harisen tucked into her trousers, the man only serenely smiled, but Sharon saw his shoulders twitch.

"Goodness! If he's young, handsome, rich, and charming, why I may just marry him! I do need someone who can shine my boots halfway decently!" Sharon sniffed. "I _must_ go see him!"

"While I am sure the lady could get the marquess to lick her boots in no time, I must insist I be the one to attend the party. A young man listens only to force," Break's smile became more strained as his voice tensed.

"Nonsense! I am sure Ada Vessalius has done nothing but taught her son grace and charm! Would you deny me an afternoon in the company of a _gentleman_ when I've had nothing but brutes and scallywags to order about?" Sharon cried.

"He's the son of a rat!" Break spat. Sharon stifled a giggle as Break lost his temper first. He never won, and Sharon had already decided. Sharon loathed the new regime and all they had done to her family, but she knew when to bow her head. Her grandmother had taught her nothing was more valuable than an _attached_ one.

Ladyship was a divide between superiority and humility; she would meet the marquess and would speak to him as someone of his own rank. She would also keep her retainer at her back and let him be her other half on the battlefield. For power was best divided, for no leader could otherwise be in all places at once. She could stand equal to any man so long as she knew his heart.

"A dead one," Sharon softly reminded Break as she quickly wrote an RSVP to send with the messenger. Break rose to his feet after the messenger had galloped away on his horse, back towards Reveille.

"This would be a bad time to leave," Break said flatly as he leaned on his cane. "We're so close and a counter-attack could come at any time. This may very well all be a ruse to get you away from the army before an attack. Reveille is more than two day's journey away."

"I will leave Eques in your shadow and come right away if I am needed." Sharon countered coolly as she poured her own tea.

"You're going to go totally alone, without your Chain?!" Break hissed.

"No, I shall bring Liam with me, as a representative of his own master." Sharon mused. Break was hardly appeased at the thought.

"Oh yes, we shall have to tell Barma, won't we." Break rolled his eyes. "I hate watching that young fool choke on his own words-"

"It won't matter, for you'll have already told me what he's going to say," Sharon teased. Break glowered and then sat back down with a great sigh.

"Will you stay safe?" He asked quietly.

"I shall be bringing my sword and pistol. And Liam will still have the Match Hare. No harm will come to us." And Sharon was absolutely certain in her words, for nothing else would lead to her death. Break looked at her for a long time and Sharon wondered at times whom he saw sitting in her place. He reached over and gently laid his hand on hers, and in that moment he had returned to her and her alone.

"Don't tell Liam where you're going until you're at least half a day's ride away, and I'll handle that great puffinjay Barma."

"But of course." Sharon agreed as she nibbled upon her rough dark bread. After all each person must be handled according to their own personality and desires, only she and Break were so courteous as to keep every weakness and strength in mind.

* * *

Even when Liam Lunettes more resembled a bear with his stubble and long hair he was still far more like the sleek and anxious rabbit he had resembled in his youth.

His Barma House slacks and slippers were faded and worn. They clashed horribly with his former Pandora coat, only modified to be removed of its crest leaving a dark spot on the surrounding gray fabric. Sharon was not much more presentable in her ancient pink satin dress with empty eyelets where ribbon had once run through, long since removed for more practical needs. They wore their displacement like shrouds with dirty fingernails and frayed shirt sleeves. Liam had at least shaved his beard and a helpful young woman had tried to weave Sharon's hair into a proper coif before she had left. Though after two days on the road they once again only resembled weary travelers on an endless journey.

Their garments were the cause of least concern however and Liam readily voiced all of his. He had thought they were riding towards a reserve column given up at last by Count Heirum until he had found the glen empty save for a contact holding two fresh mounts. The possibility of betrayal by a promised ally was nothing at the thought of seeing the marquess however.

"That boy has stayed out of all contact with any rebel group. The Baskervilles monitor all he does; surely they know we are coming!" Liam had burst out when Sharon demurely told him why he must change into the formal clothes that she had packed.

"I know," Sharon smiled, she was only poise and grace, as if such high risk diplomacy was nothing but complicated waltz. "But this is perhaps as good as talking directly to Duke Baskerville."

She glanced over her shoulder at Liam. "And shouldn't we at least try to save _some_ lives if we can?"

"You know my master has no intention of surrender." Liam frowned. "Whatever you arrange, if we are not slaughtered at the door, he will not accept it."

"I know," Sharon said again, but with only a cold clarity. Liam said nothing, only looking down at the thought of his master sacrificing even more lives in an unwinnable war. Sharon knew Liam was a practical man, and one that had survived like a clever rabbit does a pack of ravening dogs. For even a rabbit has long and sharp claws.

"Oh my lady, leading me to the threshold of death!" Liam moaned softly as they mounted the fresh horses.

"But not for the first time," Sharon giggled as she smoothed down her dress.

It had been years since she had ridden side-saddle, but she kept her back straight and hands down, perfectly balanced as they rode the last few hours of their journey. Liam only groaned softly as Reveille came into view on the horizon, a cluster of slums around a few shinning mansions of the elite. The castle dominated the cityscape however; a perilous watcher perched upon the central hill, like a vulture gloating over its kill. Sharon looked away, the only person who lived there however was an old fool and one that could no longer be bothered with.

She and Liam turned their mounts down winding alleys and narrow passageways, avoiding the main roads and staying close to the shadows in the twilight. Their destination was not so far from the bloated structure on the hill, but it was much less grandiose and menacing. It was actually fairly small for a noble estate, only three stories perhaps and two wings. If you didn't know what you were looking for you would have passed it along for far grander homes towards the end of the street. That was perhaps the intention, to disguise the monster hiding amongst humanity in the most innocuous places.

Sharon tightened her hands on the reins as Liam announced her to the doorman. As the servant left to summon his master Liam helped her dismount. She looked up at the small staircase that lead to the double doors of the foyer and thought it was a bit strange that the doorknockers were skulls. Was the marquess not actually so demure about his power over life and death? No, the answer became clear as it was the marchioness who received them at the door.

"Lady Rainsworth, it's been a long time." Ada Vessalius gave a small curtsey. She had aged of course, with a pouting belly and a gray streak in her blonde hair. She was still the same unassuming noblewoman however to be showing such deference to someone who technically no longer had any rank. It was merely a gesture of respect for someone she still saw as an equal.

And at the large spider shaped brooch on her bosom Sharon remembered this woman was a witch and free to decorate her home in all the trappings of her trade.

"It has Lady Vessalius," Sharon returned the courtesy.

"And Mr. Lunettes," Ada smiled at his bow. "My son is waiting in the parlor, please follow me."

"If you do not mind me saying so," Sharon began carefully as she swept into corridor, trying to not feel so out of place in faded satin in a home furnished in fresh verdant greens. The choice in elegant yet sinister wall hangings and macabre knickknacks helped alleviate Sharon's feeling of embarrassment. This home was just too _weird_ to be ostentatious. If anything she only felt embarrassed for Ada, who seemed more than happy to show off her questionable tastes.

"But I am surprised to see you playing hostess my lady. Is your son still unmarried?" Sharon finished after pausing for a few seconds of a painting of death leering over a couple of hapless turtles of all things. _Where did she ever find such a thing…_

"Yes, but he is still young yet." Ada replied. She winked at Sharon and the years seemed to flow away from her body as she became again the exuberant young niece of Oscar Vessalius. "But all the young ladies chase after him! Why just last week he's had five offers from five different families. You should be careful to not also lose your heart to him my lady."

Sharon only wryly chuckled at the thought of falling in love with someone who was twenty-six years her junior and the son of _Vincent Nightray_, but she heeded the sudden tone of warning that alighted Ada's voice as they paused before the parlor.

"But he already has a sweetheart I think, that he keeps away, but _she_ has his ear above anyone else," Ada inclined her head in a mother's knowing way. She then excused herself to disappear into the parlor and behind a shut door inform her son his guests had arrived. Sharon and Liam glanced at each other both understanding Ada had been trying to warn them her son's actions were not his own. Yet perhaps neither one could know for certain why other than Ada had not lost her innocence even after all that had happened to her.

The lady of the house returned to beckon them in and shut the door behind them, excusing herself. Whatever was to happen, Ada apparently had no part in it. Sharon gave one last glance behind her at the large and thick door before looking forward and stepping into battle.

Standing before an elaborate setting of tea and delicacies was the marquess. He was very tall like the men of his father's side, but Sharon was very surprised his hair was dark though it was also long and straight. He smiled congenially, not the stupid little fake smile his father often make, but one of true hospitality. It still didn't quite reach the line of his eyes, the sealed eyelids that still carried the scars of stitches. Like Break he let his deformity show, barely covered by the length of his bangs.

"My Lady Rainsworth," He stepped forward to take her hand and politely kiss it. He was graceful like his father, but Sharon found it not so much like a snake as like a but soft feet and artful motions.

"And Mr. Lunettes." The two men bowed politely to each other. "Welcome to my home. I am the Marquess Rotem Vessalius. Thank you for coming to tea. Please have a seat."

Sharon lowered herself down upon the divan next to Liam and smoothed down her satin. Perhaps taking such care with their clothes was lost on a blind man but he likely could at least hear the crush of the fabric. He smiled anyway as he served the tea himself, either because he didn't trust his own servants to even be present or he merely wished to show in the artful movements of his hands and fingers he was still quite capable even with his injury. Sharon and Liam added their own cream and sugar however, and only after watching the marquess ready his own tea with the same.

"We are very grateful," Sharon began as she took her cup, glancing behind her but finding no space between the divan and the wall. A little more reassured an assassin would have to attack from the front she continued. "That we have this opportunity. Yet I have to wonder why a man who has a secure position within the regime would reach out to a few rebels."

"War affects us all." The marquess answered easily as he sipped his tea. On cue Sharon and Liam did the same. "It interrupts agriculture, disrupts trade, and such hostility makes true prosperity impossible. The country is stagnating and that makes us vulnerable. Thanks to the Baskerville Family we are the world power but such chaos lets any tinhorn warmonger throw his hat into the ring, as happened before."

The marquess gave them a level look. "Three weeks the province of Orentil fell to some minor king from the Horenstein region, and the capital didn't even find out about it until a few days ago because messengers could not get across rebel barricades. It's an insult we cannot stand for. If one little rat can get in they'll all jump on the ship. We can no longer afford to keep fighting each other."

"And the imperial troops in Sablier cannot leave without walking into a civil war," Sharon said with satisfaction, all her hard work had finally brought the Baskervilles to an impasse it seemed like. She kept her reaction controlled however, aware she had not yet won the war, or even battle.

"Yes," The marquess sat back with his own small smile, perhaps genuinely amused. "And the imperial army has been decimated over the last few years from this in-fighting. We are truly at a critical point, my lady."

"And what would the Baskervilles like to do about it?" Sharon asked serenely, they had already come to the point of negotiations except the marquess then shook his head. Sharon raised an eyebrow, well had she been invited to a game of sabotage then? She sipped her tea. How intriguing.

"This is what _I_ would like to do about it, myself and my allies." The marquess confessed.

"Careful my lord, you are speaking treason." Sharon warned, but only lightly, even teasingly. The lad smiled, and Sharon felt something clench in her chest because that sort of smile…Vincent Nightray had never possessed anything like it. It was warm, earnest, and rarely given. Was this Ada Vessalius' legacy then?

"I know, but what does treason matter to rebels with prices on their heads?" He asked wryly.  
"You would become one," Liam warned.

"Ah, perhaps, if all does not go well. But we'd all hang together," The marquess covered his mouth in an amused gesture that Liam only frowned at, not seeing any humor in the situation at all.

"I serve Solomon Barma, and he has sworn nothing less than complete revenge against the Baskerville family for what was done to his predecessor. If you are proposing some sort of pact, he will not accept it." Liam warned.

"Heh, you serve the _effort_, not the man, if this lady brought you with her." The marquess countered and Liam snorted indignantly. Sharon stifled a giggle behind her hand at Liam's mollified look.

"All the same however, I am warning you- the Barma House will not allow for anything less than the Baskervilles being rousted from power." Liam insisted.

"Well if you are serving mad man like that, I fear something must be done." The marquess sat back in his chair, tracing a finger over his left eye and the rough line of scars. "Sometimes a disease branch needs to be cut off for a tree to grow."

"Before we discuss such a thing," Sharon interrupted. "We must know what your plan is."

"It is simple enough. Keep the imperial troops contained within Sablier, but don't begin any sort of attack. Simply hold the siege. Give over your demand for a House of Lords and it will be heeded." He obliged. "Each noble family head gets one seat."

"And how can we trust this time around it won't be filled with loyalists?" Sharon pressed.

"Because, there will be immediate amnesty and return of lands and titles for all noble families who lay down their arms." The marquess answered easily.

"And how are you going to get _that_?" Liam demanded incredulously.

"Duke Baskerville never wanted anything more than a restoral of the power Jack Vessalius and Pandora stole from his family a hundred years ago. With it back he is willing to find a peaceful solution to this civil conflict. He knows he must keep the noble families appeased if he wants to keep the country stable. Before it was simply too soon but now with Pandora completely disbanded the country can be rebuilt."

"But what you needed was an assurance from one of the rebel leaders at least they would be willing to negotiate," Sharon finished.

"Yes, and you my lady, with Solomon Barma, control the greatest rebel army. If you surrender, most of the others will too." The marquess agreed.

"But what the Baskervilles _don't_ need is Solomon Barma inspiring further rebellion." Sharon provided.

"Yes."

"Well then, I suppose we'll have to rectify this." Sharon bowed her head as she felt Liam stiffen next to her. As the marquess had observed however Liam served the cause, not the man. His true master had been killed years before.

"Indeed, and keep in mind this is all for naught if the siege is broken by battle." The marquess warned.

"We're still placing a great deal of trust in you that you will keep true to your word. That we will not simply be overrun by loyalists once again." Liam argued.

"I know, so I have one last gesture to make." The marquess stood and then dropped to is knee before Sharon. He politely took her hand in his keeping his face down as he paid her homage.

"I am not of the main family, but I am still a Baskerville. I am the son of the Duke's former servant, and I also serve him. I ask you, Lady Sharon Rainsworth, to be my wife as a gesture of peace. Let us unite these two households into an unbreakable bond, so we can at last heal our country."

He was being sincere, this was not a practiced proposal, but it was not one made of love or even romance. It was another political move, but a sacrificial one. Had his sweetheart even asked him to do this?

Sharon sat back, such a marriage was not something she had ever wanted for herself. Long ago she had known she would never marry even as she yearned for a handsome prince she could push to the ground. She had always wanted what she knew she could never have so she had settled for a knight. She closed her eyes, but this was no time to be selfish and keep chasing after naïve ideals. For more than ten years she had lived as a renegade and her greatest desire was only peace. If this was the way to get it, a loveless marriage of appearances, so be it.

_You poor boy,_ she thought with a sigh. _You're only eighteen years old and you have to marry an old woman._ And Sharon knew even though her body was still young, her Chain would never allow her to give him an heir at this age.

_Sometimes a diseased branch must be cut off for a tree to grow._

"I will." Sharon said clearly. She repeated herself as he raised his head. "I will be your wife."

May there be mercy on her soul for there had been so little in her life.


	2. Alle warten auf das Licht

_"Everyone is waiting for the light."_

* * *

Everything and nothing. The marquess put a hand to his forehead and sank even further within the presence of his beloved. The smell of jasmine and blood. Dark skin and bright eyes. Strong thighs and small breasts. A voice as soft as a breeze and as cutting as a knife. Eternal warmth and eternal life. Ardent danger and the chill of peril.

And endless love.

Engulfing him all around.

"My father," he at last dropped his hand to fall down to stroke her shapely calf through her skirt. He tilted his face up towards her small heart shaped mouth he knew by every curve and ridge.

"Which one?' She asked as her fingers curled through his hair. He paused at the thought and then chuckled, because, it was true wasn't it? Though once he had wished he had been conceived through a virgin mother.

"Both, I suppose." He listened to the distant ticking of the clock for a few seconds as he chose his words and picked at his memories. The home was silent, and his mother had been to bed hours before. She may or may not have known the Baskerville heiress was here, but she left her son largely to his own affairs. It was not in resignation as much as faith that she left him alone, though Rotem sometimes wished it was the former. Sometimes he did feel like nothing more than an actor in a play that was not his own.

"Mostly, I wonder if it's all worth it in the end," he at last confessed with a small shrug. "How do you become happy with the sacrifices you've made?"

"Getting cold feet?" Rosalind teased as her fingertips brushed his earlobe. He shivered and clenched his hands atop his chest, trying to conceal his tremble of delight.

"Lady Rainsworth has the voice of a child but I know she is a woman, and one much older than I. She'll treat me with respect and be every inch a perfect wife, but she'll sleep in her own bed and I'll sleep in mine. And soon enough I'll be alone." Rotem frowned and raised up his fingers in a gesture of resignation. He tilted his face slightly away towards the engulfing silence of the walls and doors hedging them in.

"I told you to marry her, and I will not abandon you in this." Rosalind curled his hair around her fingers as she cupped the nape of his neck. Rotem stiffened, feeling a lump form in his throat.

"I will remain by your side forever." She promised lifting his head off her lap for a kiss. _So she really does think we can-_ Rotem sat up and forward. Rosalind made a noise of surprise at his rejection and Rotem turned from her with taught shoulders. _I didn't think you were so naïve. I'm sorry._

"No, you can't." He said painfully. He put a hand to his forehead. "Not if I have a wife."

"What does that matter?" Rosalind tugged at his sleeve impatiently. "She knows you don't love her. So if we're discreet we can-"

"We can be like all the other nobles and live a lie." Rotem finished and stood up to get away from Rosalind's pleading hands.

"All my life I've had to pretend to be who I am not. I was a child conceived in wedlock but called a bastard for my own protection, then I found I was a truly a bastard but my father will never claim me. My mother gets an unchanging title but it is false, 'whore'," Rotem put a hand on his chest as he tried to calm his heart. "I know how society is. I know the woman is always at fault. My mother did nothing wrong but she lives as an outcast because my damned father has his own slice of heaven somewhere _else_. I will _not_do such a thing to any woman, wife or mistress."

"It won't matter if it stays a secret-!" Rosalind argued. "And as if I care for what anyone may say about me when I technically don't even exist!"

"You do!" Rotem snapped and pointed an angry finger at her. "When I proposed a secret marriage you refused in fear it ever be found out and invite civil war!"

"An affair is not a cause for war! If it is found out all the will happen…." Rosalind choked on her selfish words.

"My _wife_will at least be humiliated and gossiped about, even if the mistress is never found." Rotem finished for her. He shook his head. "I will not do it. I may not love her but I am not cruel, and I promised myself that I would never become cruel. My father and his brother both were cruel, and how my mother suffered for it. I will not be corrupted."

He turned away. "Even by you, whom I love."

Rosalind didn't answer, by her furious breathing she was trembling in anger. When she spoke however it was with a sob.

"If I had known! If I had known, I would have never-!" she gasped.

"Ah, perhaps you didn't know me then, as well as you thought." Rotem heard the sofa move back as Rosalind shot up like an angry snake with the intent of a killing strike. He stood rigid, welcoming any blow she may lay on him. She only stood in tense silent for a few seconds before she walked past him, cutting the air violently with her furious stalk.

Rotem felt quite sure she would never come into his presence ever again.

He winced as the door was slammed behind him and he was left alone in the devouring silence of the home. His mother had likely awoken at least from the door slamming as the walls were ancient and thick, but she must have known all along what he would do. She would leave him alone until the morning at least. With a sigh he followed the leak of cold air across the room to the window. He laid his hand on the cool pane and put his forehead against it, recalling when he had soaked a wooden door with blood after he had been blinded by seeking out the same frigid comfort.

He had not wanted it to go that way, but he had known Rosalind's temper would have never allowed for anything else.

He exhaled slowly as he replayed the conversation he'd had with Gilbert Nightray against that door. His father had asked for death from him. Rotem had refused that too, fearing cruelty's vulgar touch. Yet he feared now it had happened all the same, like a curse that ran in the blood. Was he just hurting people even as he tried to be noble and good? Was he really just a self righteous idiot like his father was?

_How do you become happy with the sacrifices you've made?_He turned towards the clock as it struck midnight. With a sigh he removed his shoes and picked up a throw blanket from near the fireplace. He'd sleep on the sofa in the room where he'd proposed to his bride and cut out his heart. His tomb. Though he knew he would have no sleep tonight.

For he could still see her face, and the golden lights.

_But I am sure you're giving up something just as precious Lady Rainsworth,_he thought as he laid down. He touched a few cool fingertips to his forehead. This world had been allowed to go on, and he had vowed to himself he would try to see the beauty in it that had allowed Vincent Baskerville to save it.

_I can only hope you are not cruel to me, though I probably deserve it._ Rotem thought of his bride as he blew out the candle left in Rosalind's wake.

* * *

The return to the camp was via shadows and in only a gasp of time. Break tilted his head as Sharon and Liam stepped out of his shadow, Solomon Barma only just outside the tent. Sharon smoothed down her dress as Liam stumbled to sit down next to Break. Despite his resolution in speaking to the marquess he had a delayed reaction from the stress. He nearly passed out as he wished he could have at the tea party.

Sharon waited a minute to speak until she saw the Barma's shadow move away in the firelight. She sat back and gave a loud sigh of exasperation. His predecessor had also been an intractable man but not an _idiot_. The Barmas however had a certain tendency for foolishness.

"He really is set on starting a war," Sharon crossed her arms over her chest. She had heard Barma's and Break's entire conversation through Eques as she had ridden through the midnight streets of Reveille.

"He believes it a point of honor to not forgive the Baskervilles." Liam frowned as he reached for the teapot from the scraps of Break's dinner. "And it's why he was rallied around I know, as the unassailable bulwark of noble dignity."

"Bulwark of _jackassery_," Break corrected with a snort as he broke a piece of candy between his teeth.

"He is not going to accept amnesty," Liam continued as he chose to ignore Break. "If he bows his head he will not only look like a hypocrite but he will also lose this power he has right now. That boy has never been as loved as he is now."

"Old Duke Stupid-Hair _would_ have chosen the most ass headed heir he could from amongst his relatives," Break grated, still furious for being told he was nothing but "a blind cock who had lost his hen" when Barma had learned at last Sharon was gone. Break of course had chosen to be as infuriating as possible by feigning he didn't know where she was. And as Break was an untouchable servant of the House of Rainsworth Barma had fallen to petty insults. It was the same exact pattern from his predecessor and Break seemed to _thrive_on its continued and mutual hostility.

"All the same, we need to at least give him the chance." She knew Marquess Vessalius had implied he be assassinated but Sharon was reticent about employing the exact same sort of tactics the Baskervilles did, especially against her own allies. A new world should not be built on the ideals of the old one.

"If we do not we risk forever making an enemy of that house. The new heir will say we murdered him unfairly, whatever happens, if we…" Sharon held her tongue, knowing spies were all around, and Barma had never completely trusted her as it was. Break caught the meaning and sat up.

"Ah I see. So what? The Baskervilles proposed amnesty in exchange for a certain head?" he pried.

"They proposed amnesty so long as we hold the siege." Sharon corrected in a whisper. "And with some other terms we would also be given a House of Lords once again."

"So they can fill the seats with their stooges again?" Break snorted.

"No, for I…" Sharon removed her riding gloves and exposed the ring upon her left hand. "Will marry Marquess Vessalius, scion of the Baskervilles, to assure the place of the old nobility."

Break went still; staring at the ring on her hand like it was a bloated spider. A look of pure disgust. Sharon didn't recoil for it was not directed at her as much as the man who had given it to her. She had known Break would never approve of any man she may chose to call her own, but in such a deplorable state she could not even find humor in how "Big Brother Xerx" looked like he wanted to gag. For Rotem Vessalius was no prince, he was not even a knight, he was just a pawn.

And like Sharon he had _chosen_to be one.

"What were the other terms?" Break asked at last.

"That I draft the proposal; make it look like it's a peace offering." Sharon explained as she at last lowered her hand.

"We're going to have to get that past Barma too." Break mused and Sharon gave him a small smile.

"My! Are you wary of the challenge?" She prodded.

"Not at all my lady. I sail a galleon under Barma's nose if I could." Break said airily.

"Wonderful. But how will we get the message to the Baskervilles?" Sharon wondered.

"We're being watched now; we'll have to hand it off to some messenger. Give it to your cousin, Lady Vinhil. She is loyal to Rainsworth but she is also Barma's aunt. He's not going to molest his uncle's wife." Liam suggested and then stood. "And I will take that message to her."

Sharon nodded and reached for his shoulders to whisper in his ear. "And I will leave it beneath the statue of Saint Bridget in the Yonville cemetery."

She released him and with a word of good night Liam returned to his master, to explain about the failed attempt to bring Count Heirum's column and how Xerxes Break was indeed a horse's ass. Sharon walked the few steps to the front of the tent flap and careful to not expose her dress she glanced about the surrounding yard. The soldiers were at their ease, most sleeping at this time of night save for the few trudging guards. Sharon felt like she would be getting no rest again as Sablier loomed like a leviathan over the countryside.

And perhaps the way to defeat a leviathan was to be devoured by it.

With a sigh she went behind a screen to change from the tiered party dress into her usual blouse and slacks. Her high heels were replaced by sturdy boots. His coif was dropped into a mere pony tail. The sword and pistol remained on her slender waist, as her femininity remained visible in the supple curve of her breasts and thighs that strained against the thin fabric of her trousers. She could not move about in corsets, lace, and wire skirts, but a woman was so much more than her clothing. She changed outfits as she did roles. She could only hope she would soon give up the pants of a soldier for the sensible dresses of a politician.

"You had better put on gloves," Break warned as she reappeared from behind the screen. He eyed her hands. "Barma is definitely going to ask questions if he sees you're engaged."

Sharon smiled and with a small nod of her head put on the gloves. The air was still cold enough to warrant it, even in the daytime. She pulled up a chair and began writing the proposal. It was a document she had been waiting years to write and had been drafted in her head several times. The words came easily even as she hesitated at every noise and shifting of the tent wall.

"I know you're not so stupid as to fancy yourself in love with that boy after one meeting," Break suddenly began from behind her as he stoked the fire. Sharon only wryly smiled that her Big Brother was more concerned about her marriage than the fact they were committing sabotage against their own war effort and were in substantial danger of immediate execution if caught.

"But is it really _necessary_to put on such a damned show for the other nobility?" He asked harshly.

"Oh, but, Big Brother Xerx, everyone knows that no woman controls a man more than his wife." Sharon tittered.

"Is he really that much like his father he needs a _leash_?" Break deadpanned.

Sharon paused and then shook her head. "No, no, I don't think he's much like his father at all. He's more Ada Vessalius' son than anyone else's, whatever her poor taste in men was. When I look at him all I see is a poor child, confused and lost, and trying to do the right thing, though he has no idea what it is."

"He sounds like Gilbert Nightray, when I first knew him, then," Break quietly relented as he eased himself into a chair, putting his cane over his knees. He kept his gaze on the fire as Sharon looked back at her proposal.

"And he eventually figured out what the right thing was," Sharon smiled; she could only hope his nephew did the same. Break didn't answer and only remained silent as she sealed the letter with the Rainsworth's crest.

"But he was also a child blinded by his own family, and _that's_what you marry into." Break sat back with a snort. "I say screw the Baskervilles, my lady, if they can't be held to their word on honor alone, they're not worth negotiations."

"You're beginning to sound like Solomon Barma," Sharon teased she stood with the letter in hand. Break only gave her a nonplussed look.

"Only because I know I serve someone who can get on by herself," Break stood and quickly plucked the letter from Sharon's hand. He put his arm around her shoulders and held her close to whisper in her ear.

"Marry the boy if you want to mother him, but don't marry him because you think you _need_ him or anyone else to do _anything_." Her knight staunchly said. Sharon could only nod in a daze. Break stepped back.

"I will take the letter to Yonville; I will be back by morning." He gave a small salute and only just before he left Sharon remembered.

"I am leaving Eques in your shadow!" She informed him in a loud whisper. Break raised his hand in acknowledgment and walked through the camp like a man who was thirty years younger. Sharon exhaled and quickly tied the tent shut. Alone at last she fell to her knees in unbearable delight.

_Xerxes, he really trusts me!_She sighed loudly.

And wasn't that just worth the world?

* * *

Sharon had been awoken that morning by a warm hand to her cheek before the call of the bugle. Break informed her all had gone to plan, the letter would likely be picked up by Liam this morning on his round of errands. It would be Lady Vinhil who would deliver the letter tonight. They only needed to wait one day, only one day more, before it would be all over.

It was hard to conceptualize her feelings as she sat with Barma at breakfast. Though he was a stubborn and difficult man Sharon could not truly say he was a bad one. He may not even have been as dishonorable as his predecessor; he was much more straightforward and seemed to find the sort of shadow-games Rufus Barma had employed as distasteful at best, cowardly at worse. Though the dislike of subterfuge was based on a concept of honor that honor was also one of brute force and strength. It had no respect for subtlety or diplomacy. He had no respect for _her_unless she was leading the charge right beside him. Solomon Barma asked a great deal of his allies, but they were things only based on his narrow world view.

Ultimately Sharon decided she would not like to see the man die, especially as he did have a wife and children. She hoped he would at last find his common sense and accept amnesty when it was given. Though she prepared to give the order for his execution, hopefully the last one she would ever give.

The day moved on as it usually did during the time of siege; agonizingly slow. The troops were inspected, given orders of who to relieve of duty, occasionally moved around, and reports were given. Nothing changed, as it could not, and must not.

The stagnation was making the troops anxious and frustrated. Fights were becoming more common as tempers flared and morale was lowered due to sheer boredom. These were men and women who had been fighting almost continuously for the last ten years. Those who remained were the most skilled, but also the most ruthless. Yet they were all tired, all sick of war, and Sharon knew most were ready to go home, under whatever terms.

So long as Solomon Barma didn't open his big mouth.

The day seeped away and at dinner Sharon allowed Barma to entertain a delusion of battle. As he planned his attack to be after three days from then she saw no reason to shatter his happy dream. Though Sharon was measured in discussing strategy Barma had no inkling that his glorious last stand would not come to pass. For certainly the sort of full assault he was proposing would indeed break the siege, but only for Baskerville, who was not even close to the point of being starved out. The Baskerville Duke merely didn't wish for the country to fall into chaos, but he was by no means in any danger _himself_.

Sharon concealed her incredulous look behind a teacup that Lord Solomon truly had no idea what the point of a siege was. It was meant to break down your opponents day after day, month after month, for they could_not_ be defeated otherwise, and certainly not on a battlefield. While Barma's approach of slaughter on a grand scale had its time and place, and had been useful many times before, it simply would not work here. Baskerville was too strong and would always be too strong. Sharon had accomplished all she had desired by getting a chance to whisper into the ear of the great duke. Barma however still believed in the dream of a country without the Baskerville leviathan. Sharon knew however Solomon Barma was no Jack Vessalius. He have to be a _likeable_man for one thing.

Sharon excused herself from dinner with a headache and a prayer Barma somehow acquired some better sense over night. She went to bed weary and with an anxious stomachache. They were on the cusp of a new world but all she felt like was that she was falling.

And she learned in the morning her ally was not as much a fool as she had thought when she awoke to not a Baskerville representative retinue but with a line of rifle barrels with a glowering Solomon Barma acting as their commander.

"What is the meaning of this?!" Sharon snapped as she looked around for Break. She found she was alone however and pulled the blankets up over her nightclothes as she trembled in anger.

"Sabotage." Barma snapped his fingers and a hysterical Lady Vinhil was dragged in, the scourge marks still livid across her back as she was thrown at Sharon's feet.

"My lady, I am sorry, but I told them everything!" Lady Vinhil sobbed.

"The letter, did it-?!" Sharon gasped.

The lady only nodded and Sharon looked up at Barma with renewed satisfaction. The man saw the triumph in her eyes and struck her across the face for it. The slap hurt, but it was the agony of vindication.

"What was in that letter?" he asked with a deathly softness as if he could somehow conceal the anger in his dark eyes.

Sharon blinked and then gave a small cry of gratitude. Liam! He hadn't told anyone what it had said! So the lady could not have told Barma even under torture! But oh god, where was _he_then? He and Break?

"The _letter_Lady Rainsworth! What was in it?!" Barma repeated in a roar.

"Your plans for an attack." Sharon replied succinctly. She met his furious gaze with steely determination. She clenched her hands; he could not be so stupid as to try to initiate a battle when his enemies knew his intent! The siege would hold until the Baskervilles came! Her enemies were now her allies, but she had betrayed her own efforts the minute she had agreed to become a part of that damned family!

Barma stepped back in shock. "You little…you would betray me, all of us?! Why?!"

"Because if I did so we would be given amnesty, all of us. Immediately. Don't you see Lord Barma? The war is over! We can all go home and return to our former lives! We'll have a representative body, our own share of power!" Sharon ardently told him. Lady Vinhil looked up in surprise she had carried such a message and the rifles lowered in hope.

"Live under Baskerville rule? No I will not allow it! Ever!" Barma drew his sword and pressed its point to Sharon's throat. "Just because _you_are so weak! You Rainsworths have always been soft! You'll take any scrap that is given to you like the bitches you are! No! I will not live by the intentions of cowards!"

He lowered the sword and turned away. Barma's orders and intents were clear however. "Tie them up. I will execute all four of these conspirators in the town square of Sablier before all of the nobility!"

"No! No! You fool! You'll just get everyone killed! If you break the siege with battle you'll lose all hope for any sort of victory!" Barma only continued walking out of the tent as Sharon and Lady Vinhil were grasped by their arms to be tied to a tent post. "Listen to me! You're going to kill _everyone_!"

But her pleas fell on deaf ears and a mind only given to destruction.

Sharon turned away bitterly from her former ally's shadow as she and Lady Vinhil were tied standing up and face to face. It was just one of the series of fatal mistakes Barma had made in his furious haste. Once left alone Lady Vinhil began to lament again.

"Oh, I did get the letter through but is it all for naught now?" She hung her head, her blood tinged blonde curls flowing down her face like a shroud.

"How were you captured?" Sharon asked as the call to arms was raised.

"I was found returning from Sablier. As I came back into the camp I was stopped and questioned. I tried to lie but I was whipped until I gave up the truth." The woman sniffed. "Mr. Lunettes was dragged in to collaborate my story when I gave up his name. Mr. Lunettes was scourged so terribly he- he- I think he fell down dead!"

Sharon closed her eyes. _Or just fell under the influence of the March Hare._She could only hope.

"But he didn't give up a word!" Lady Vinhil sobbed. "And if Xerxes Break is not here they must have captured him too!"

For Liam Lunettes' ties to the Rainsworth Household were well known. Sharon exhaled slowly as she absorbed all this information. Her two greatest friends were either dead or captured like she was. She was totally alone. If she didn't interfere right away all that would result from her years of struggle and sacrifice was a slaughter that would end the war with the Baskerville leviathan totally triumphant. She must stop this mad charge of Barma's somehow before they all fell into an inescapable chasm of slaughter!

She could do this, Xerxes had believed she could do _anything_.

"Lady Vinhil, I need you to listen very carefully to me." Sharon said clearly. The other woman raised her head. "I have placed my Chain in Lord Barma's shadow. I will move it until I find either Xerxes Break's or Liam Lunettes' shadow."

The other woman nodded. She calmed as she realized her mistress was not ready to give up the fight yet. She was likely ashamed on her of her despair, but Sharon would forgive her if she returned to the well trained soldier she had always known.

"I also keep a stiletto in a thigh holster when I sleep." Sharon told Vinhil. She placed her leg against the tent pole and after some wriggling managed to loosen the knife from its holster. It fell to the ground but remained hidden beneath the hem of Sharon's nightgown.

"Now, I understand you are quite dexterous with your feet and quite flexible with your legs-" Sharon began.

"How did you know that?" Lady Vinhil suddenly interrupted with a mortified blush.

"Oh, one just hears things at times," Sharon said airily, and especially with a Chain that might as well been handcrafted for eavesdropping. Lady Vinhil blinked but worked her foot out of her boot. With amazing grace she picked the stiletto up and held the handle of the knife between two toes. With some effort she raised her leg to the awkward angle needed to saw the ropes.

As Lady Vinhil worked on freeing them Sharon moved Eques from shadow to shadow, picking up on pieces of conversation until she at last came upon a pair of guards towards the east end of the camp. They were discussing their sudden orders to depart from their charges. One man expressed surprise they would be allowed to leave a man like Xerxes Break unattended but he was reassured by the other guard the chains would be impossible to get out of.

"He's on death's door anyway, that friend of his died last night. I put him out on the rubbish pile myself."

"Ugh, just a mess," the first guard replied as he pulled back the tent door to look upon his prisoner one last time. Eques leapt the distance between the man's shadow and its final destination. Break stirred s his shadow expanded but not enough to rouse suspicion from the guards. He was left alone as Lady Vinhil finished with her sawing.

"Break. Break." Sharon called through the shadow.

"Ah, my lady, you are still alive." Break sighed.

"So is Liam, I am sure." Break said nothing to her encouragement and Sharon knew this was not the time for optimism, only action.

"Lady Vinhil is with me and the ropes have been cut. Tell me where you are and I will come for you."

"No, I am fine. Just stay safe until I-" Break began to argue.

"This is not the time for the One Man Show!" Sharon snapped. "Barma is going to ruin everything we've worked for and I will not allow him, or _you_, to dash everything to pieces in foolish pride!"

Sharon inhaled sharply, "**NOW TELL ME WHERE YOU ARE!**"

Lady Vinhil flinched and likely so did Break as a few seconds later he sheepishly gave his location.

"Right." Sharon cleared her throat and turned to the stunned lady by her side.

"Prepare a horse for me." Lady Vinhil quickly walked away to do as she was ordered. In her absence Sharon quickly pulled on a pair of trousers beneath her night gown and put on her sword belt. By the time she had dressed Lady Vinhil had the horse waiting outside the tent.

"Go find your husband and be prepared to reinforce me." Sharon gave her last order before she urged her mount into a gallop. The rear columns were still assembling in the camp to follow the march of the front lines. None challenged her however as she rode through the camp, either unaware of the conflict between the two leaders or her troops were truly unwilling to fire on her even as a traitor. They still followed Barma's orders however as they prepared to die for the cause without any knowledge they could have lived.

Sharon dismounted in front of the tent where Break was being held. She called Eques back to her shadow as she fell to her knees before the man she called knight and brother. The guard had not exaggerated for she found Break weakened and bloodied. He had fought to be captured, or had fought to try to save Liam, and at some point must have used his Chain. A desperate action of a mad man for now each use brought him closer to the day the Abyss would rip him apart. He came alive under her hands however his eye bright and ferocious, as devouring of his enemies as his Chain's great single eye.

"Hold still." Sharon warned as she drew her pistol and shattered the lock on his chains with a single shot. With a groan Break slumped forward and Sharon caught him, holding him tenderly to her breast.

"I will go get Barma." He hissed. Sharon looked down at him in surprise.

"Oh no," she gasped. She shook her head, no, not when he was like this-!

"Go and stop the troops! They will listen to no one else!" Break insisted and Sharon knew he was right even as her heart clenched in painful fear. She helped him up, but he left her after she mounted her horse again and she quickly lost him in the crush of bodies. Sharon wiped her tears away as she turned towards the front lines and was joined by the Vinhils.

"Lady Odette, go right! Lord Arthur go left!" She ordered the pair as she urged the horse into a gallop that propelled her to the very center of the frontlines. Soldiers scattered to avoid her horse and the assault was interrupted by the charge of the Vinhils across the head of the lines. It was finally stopped by Sharon pulling up her mount at the apex of the surging army, right before the very walls of Sablier.

"Stop!" She cried into the throbbing mass of humanity before her. "You have all been deceived by Lord Barma! We have been offered amnesty! If you would just stop! You're only going to die needlessly if you continue!"

"What is this!" Barma himself appeared down the line upon his own thick charger. "Don't listen to her! She is a cowardly traitor! She would have us all live under Baskerville rule like puppets!"

As the man challenged her Sharon caught a glimpse of a single red eye from behind his horse. She inhaled sharply and made the decision to keep distracting the unfortunate ally she no longer had any use for._Sometimes a diseased branch needs to be cut off for a tree to grow._

"We have been offered not only amnesty but a restoral of our lands and titles. We will have our own assembly again! The time for war is over! We could never hope to defeat Baskerville! They are immortal contractors! If you fight today you will die needlessly!"

"Enough!" Barma raised his sword to charge at Sharon but even as she drew her sword in response a blade lanced through the man's abdomen. He looked down in shock at the blood soaked sword that had eviscerated him. As the blade began to slide down, releasing all of Solomon Barma's blood to spray across his mount and the earth, the slain man struck one more time.

Perhaps it was his age, or injuries, or merely the loss of a friend had disheartened him, but for whatever reason, Xerxes Break didn't move as fast as he usually did. Barma viciously sliced his throat with a backwards swing of his sword, felling his assailant in one strike. Sharon screamed as Barma's other arm rose and two shots fired.

Sharon felt something lodge in her throat, slicing her scream into a choked cry. A thick taste of iron and salt flooded into her mouth as she felt herself begin to fall, an arc of blood following after her descent. As Lady Vinhil caught her from behind with a cry she was raised up for one last glimpse at life as the darkness of death clotted along the outside of her vision.

Liam was standing with a raised pistol in hand, behind where Barma was lifelessly slumped forward on his horse; his head ripped open by a gun shot. At his feet was the crumpled body of his oldest friend. Sharon fell back as she heard Lord Vinhil roar for order.

The lines broke like an overextended dam as commanders and troops reared back in confusion. The battle would not be fought today or any day. The siege remained, and the war was over.

And that was worth the entire world.


	3. Sie ist der hellste Stern von allen

_She is the brightest star of all._

* * *

When she awoke it was into a world of blinding light, iron and salt. The viscous taste had shaped her dreams into caverns, dank and cold. But they had also been voids without pain, regret, or suffering. A hibernation of feeling that suddenly burst with a splatter pattern of recollection and agony.

"Oh, my lady, please don't move!" A voice quailed from above as Sharon flinched away from a cold feeling against where her life had nearly seeped from her throat. She closed her eyes and reopened them to look into rose colored eyes that looked like heavenly stars from below. The young woman was looking down, tying something against Sharon's neck. Though the noblewoman looked down and saw the flare of a red cloak she didn't fear it was a garrote.

"The war really is over, if a Baskerville would attend to my wounds." The woman paused and blinked. She drew her hands away like a slow tide and her smile turned over a rocky coldness.

"We have the best doctor in the world," she explained. "Who can even stitch vocal cords and arteries. Both were merely nicked by that bullet, but it had to be excavated. You'll have a scar, but you'll live."

"How long did I sleep?"

"For a month or so. Drug induced in fear of pain and moving your neck to further tear the puncture of the bullet. It's nearly filled in now, nothing but a shallow impression that will always remain." The woman reported crisply and Sharon knew she had been trained so. She sat up a little, raising herself on her elbows, seeing what orders this little soldier had been given.

"And what of my companions?"

"I only relieved Mr. Lunettes an hour before so he may eat and rest himself. Lady and Lord Vinhil have been holding together your troops."

"And he is dead, isn't he?" Sharon asked softly. The Baskerville only lowered her head.

"Resting in a coffin but awaiting milady's orders as to where he should be buried." She answered as she stood to move the basin and cloth away. Sharon spared herself from looking at what pus and gore had been cleaned from the injury beneath the fresh bandage.

"And Rotem Vessalius?" Sharon asked at the woman's back. She frowned as she watched her shoulders tense below her puff of hair.

"Your fiancé?" the woman asked without turning around.

"Your lover." Sharon smiled. The woman turned around with a cold look, one of controlled emotion, but not of hatred or humiliation. Sharon tilted her head congenially. "What is your name?"

"I am Rosalind, and by my honor as a Baskerville and one of those who serves the guardian, I promise my lady that though I once loved that man, I will never bring a scandal to your marriage, or ever act inappropriately around him." She said vehemently and Sharon was rather impressed. For she could not help but to giggle, _Oh that young idiot, he is so much like his uncle!_She paused at the thought. With the dark hair and…

"He is a Baskerville as well. And he can regenerate can't he? And he's nearly immortal too isn't he?" Sharon realized as Rosalind nodded. Sharon's eyes narrowed. "Then how was he blinded that he could have scars remain?"

"He was blinded with the power of the Abyss." Rosalind answered simply.

"By Glen?"

"No." She bowed her head. And Sharon knew the only other person besides Break to possess that sort of Chain. _Oh, Gilbert._And only because like that boy he felt such responsibility for everything.

"Oh, dear, I cannot marry him." Sharon sighed as she sank back into the pillows. Rosalind stepped forward.

"He is far too much like his father." Sharon sniffed in explanation. "Far too wrapped up in what he must do, and what's right. He would be nice to have over for an afternoon but asking him for opinions on curtains and lingerie or anything fun? Heavens! I may as well have a dog!"

Rosalind looked only confused, unsure if to be offended or hopeful. Sharon winked at her.

"A man like that _needs_a certain sort of woman, one who can all his stuffiness and bring out all his strength. Me? I much rather just bully and tease him." Sharon explained with great dignity and an upraised hand. Rosalind took another step closer.

"My lady?"

"Call me, 'Big Sis'," Sharon said grandly and Rosalind blinked. She continued on, "The thing is, my dear little sister, is that we all have our other halves in life. That other person or people who complete us and make us whole. Sometimes it is your spouse, lover, or your friend. Whoever they are to you, they are the ones you need in life to get on."

Sharon smiled, "and sometimes they leave you early. So if you find them you must stay close to them and cherish all the time you are given with them."

"And your Rotem is the sort of idiot who can lose sight of things." Sharon sat up and playfully tugged on one of Rosalind's tuffs of hair. "So keep him on the right path. An old lady like me, who has her other halves, doesn't need to get in the way of a complete circle."

"But the other nobles, your marriage was meant to-" Rosalind began to argue.

"You know you can't care too much what others think." Sharon scolded and tugged on the hair hard enough for Rosalind to flinch. Good, she was listening. "And though I may be old, I can also stand on my own. Don't worry about me; I will make it, so long as I have your help and that of Rotem."

Sharon let go and Rosalind nodded vehemently, looking more than a little bowled over. Sharon dismissed her to fetch Liam and was feeling quite good about herself as she sank back into the pillows. Yes she would set everything to right, just as a queen should. Then Liam appeared in the doorway with Emily in his hands. For the first time Sharon truly understood she would never see her knight ever again. Though she had known for years this day would one day come it still hit her stomach like a vicious punch. She burst into tears before Liam even reached her. He gently placed the doll in his mistress' lap and wrapped his arms around her as she wept.

"Oh Liam, oh Liam, we're going to have to get a dog!" Sharon sobbed into his chest as he stroked her hair. Liam didn't question what she exactly meant and perhaps he somehow knew what she truly meant was now they were only two, when they had always been three. Nothing could fill the void left between them, there could only be a memorial left in the space he had left behind.

Nothing would ever be adequate however save for their memories, where he could live forever, whole, complete, and splendid in his love.

* * *

"I still can't believe you named it after him." Liam frowned at the puppy walking at the end of Sharon's leash. Xerxes Break II was a small black dog of likely poodle origins, found cold and wet in an alley a few days before. He loved Sharon's lap and would defend her to the death. He was even more fond however of chewing Liam's socks and peeing in his shoes.

"It is a far grander memorial to name something alive after someone than something cold and stone." Sharon sniffed.

"But the mausoleum is quite a sight. We tried to not make it too ostentatious but I believe it gets the job done." Rotem replied from behind Sharon. A few days recuperation was hardly enough to overcome a month's lay-in. Nevertheless day by day she became stronger and would continue to thrive.

A few days before they had arrived in Reveille to begin the business of running the first meeting of the House of Lords besides the task of getting the meeting hall ready and making sure all who would attend arrived, there was also the business of paying tribute to the dead who had allowed it to happen.

The king had made a grand speech at the head of the tomb days before and while the marquess had played his part, Sharon had declined. She had already differentiated herself from the Baskerville marquess in that she didn't exist to be a figurehead. She was herself and by the angels, all would know it. It was a tradition the Rainsworth House had always upheld, walking to their own queenly beat. She wasn't going to tolerate the company of someone who had allowed war to go on unchecked for decades. Not even the king was above public censure, let him know it now. Sharon would forever stand for her own beliefs, on her own, and supported by friends who shared them.

Rotem held a hand out to help Sharon out of the chair and down the stairs leading to the entrance of the tomb. She took it and handed off Break II to Liam who took his cue to keep walking and leave the two of them alone.

"I need to give you your ring back," Sharon placed it into Rotem's palm. The young man smiled a little as he wrapped his fingers around it. "I am sure it is valuable to you."

"It was a grandmother's, an heirloom," he sighed as he dropped it into a pocket. "But now it has been rejected twice! I suppose I am to be a bachelor forever!"

"A most horrid fate," Sharon laughed softly. "But you are going to live for a very long time, things may change."

"Indeed." He agreed but leaned forward. "And you are certain this is what you want?"

"I want you to be my close friend, marquess. I never want intrigue to come between us. Let us not behave like our ancestors who ruled by a knife to the back but a knife in the front." Sharon smiled.

"And day by day then, we shall struggle on, and try to somehow survive." He gave her one kiss to the cheek. He led her down the stairs, the one man she may have ever married took her to the first man she had ever loved. He left with a bow and left the two halves to mourn for their third.

Sharon paused before the monolith; it was as the marquess had indicated a simple structure. It was a heavy square of limestone carved with intricate patterns of angels and stylized friezes of the golden lights of the Abyss. Taking Liam's offered arm they walked past the tall doorway into a cool cavern of shattered light from stained glass chandeliers that stood as guardians over the engulfing silence of death. Those of importance in the war had been laid here, but those who had been left in field, in streams, and incinerated upon pyres in the years before had their names carved betwixt the vaults of their leaders. Soldier and commander resting together forever in a serene surrender to death, perhaps this was where peace truly laid.

She paused at the resting place of Solomon Barma and Liam didn't even look upon it. Instead with Sharon he kissed the name of his first master and her grandmother, laid side by side for eternity, the most obstinate other halves. With great care she placed Emily atop the vault of the Rainsworth knight, laid by his Lady Shelly but with two other spaces open and waiting for their owners.

Sharon only cried a little, and was comforted by the sight of Liam's tears.

They had dried them however by the time Break II started barking frantically at the entrance of the tomb. A young man appeared at the entrance, one Sharon had first met when she was only thirteen years old, and he looked exactly the same, as she did. A moment that repeated every few decades.

_The cycle of rebirth cannot be broken._Sharon recalled with a sigh as she ran her fingers over the name of Xerxes Break one last time before stepping forward to meet her friends.

"So this is it," Gilbert Nightray noted with his usual eloquence. He seemed almost overwhelmed by the specter of death, someone who would never be touched by it. Yet he was the sort who usually forgot he was not human. Sharon pulled away from Oz and quickly grasped Alice in a hug before the Baskerville girl could skitter away. She was much taller than Sharon now but still unable to escape her headlocks.

"Yes, probably a little too fancy for his tastes but it was Lady Sharon who suggested the chandeliers," Liam explained with an upraised hand.

"He could stand to have a little color," Sharon sniffed as she dragged Alice back by the neck. "So it is not so dreary when I visit."

"Are you guys…okay?" Oz asked cautiously as if uncertain it would somehow offend. Sharon at last released Alice so she could take a few dazed steps as Break II chased after her heels.

"We are moving on," Sharon answered crisply with a smile. "You must know the first congress is starting tomorrow. You should attend."

Sharon caught Alice by the ear. "If Miss Alice washes her hair first! My! You must come by and try this new shampoo I have! We can even bathe together and then we can try on dresses!"

"Er…" Alice startled obviously looking for a way out but Oz would not give it.

"Oh yes, we should all come by and have dinner tonight! This is the first time I've been able to come to Reveille in years!"

"My hair is fine!" Alice seethed from behind Gilbert, forever a wonderfully angry little doll, but Sharon was not done with her upbraiding.

"Yes and if you stay, Mr. Gilbert, you must go and see Lord Rotem! He's acting as a moderator tomorrow you know."

"But…Rotem….thinks I'm stupid." Gilbert sighed in a miserable confession.

"Is this anything new for you?" Sharon deadpanned. Gilbert only stiffened and didn't answer; only such a father would be intimidated by his own young son. Sharon shook her head, but she would have her way! She gave directions to the room where she was staying and left the three to their own personal remembrances.

After all, as the marquess had said they would all struggle on and try to survive. The dead were beginning their own journey in the cycle of reincarnation. The living were all traveling towards death. Either sojourn could not be stopped; it could only be made into what the person crafted with their own hands.

And Sharon's would be one of triumph and tribute to all those who had made the journey first.


End file.
